Sick of this place

We need to talk about allergies. When I talk about allergies with my family members who live up north, they give me ponderous looks. I get it. Allergies are something you have during May and June, and you take a bit of medication and get on with life.

Allergies in the South are life-altering. After a few years of living in Texas, I developed an allergy to cedar (Which is actually ashe juniper, not the beautiful Christmas tree that comes to mind.). From December through February, I spend much of my time indoors, even if we are having one of those blue-sky 65-degree January days, the type of days that inspire people to move here. If I venture out, my eyes become itchy and swollen, and I spend half the night awake, unable to breath through my stuffed sinuses. I have other allergies as well, but cedar is the most crippling.

At age two, Eleanor developed this cough that would show up every few weeks and then disappear after she spent a day or two resting on the couch. It seemed like a cold. Trips to the doctor always led to the diagnosis of a cold. Except she kept getting it. She was missing several days of preschool each month. Finally, when she was 4, the cough became so bad that she was having trouble breathing. This time, the doctor found that she had allergy-induced asthma. I was so relieved to have an explanation that I didn’t care what the cause was. We spent a year trying to figure out when she needed allergy medication.

Last summer, I decided that we needed to get this allergy thing completely figured out, to conquer it if we could. Eleanor had an allergy blood test. The doctor said that with this information, we would know when to have her on allergy meds and when to keep her off of them. Her test showed allergies to three things, including mold. We have mold here year-round. When I try to skip her medication for even a day or two, the cough comes back, and then we have to use a nebulizer. For those not familiar with the nebulizer, it is a noisy machine that hooks up to a breathing mask that the poor kid has to wear for 10 minutes while vapor is pumped out. Every parent who lives in Austin knows what a nebulizer is because about half of the kids here use them.

I also got an allergy test for myself. I had a skin test. A nurse put scratches all over my back with bits of pollen in them. Some of the tests couldn’t be done with scratches, only with injections. So I had 21 injections (So many needles!) of pollen into my arms. Then we sat around and waited for all of the scratches and injections to become swollen and itchy, and then the nurse measured the welts. If you’re thinking that this was the highlight of my summer, you would be right. If you’re wondering why I didn’t just have a blood test like Eleanor, it’s because the skin test is more accurate and most doctors require it before treatment. I was allergic to about 40 of the 51 things in the test. I have decided to stick with my over-the-counter medication for the most part.

I did get sublingual drops for my cedar allergy. I squeeze some drops of cedar pollen under my tongue every day and hold them there for two minutes. After three to five years, this is supposed to acclimate my body to cedar so that it quits overreacting. Alternatively, I could have gone in for weekly injections for the next year or two and had the same result. This is what people do to live in Texas. Yes, we are crazy here.

While all of this testing was going on, we discovered that Henry was allergic to eggs. We’ve been doing fine working around that, although he is starting to get pretty ornery when I make brownies and don’t share. But the food allergy makes it likely that he will have pollen allergies as well.

The point of all of this sharing is to ask: Should we be living here? And I don’t mean the collective “we,” though that is also a valid question in a land of droughts and scorpions. I know that we will have allergies wherever we go, but in places that freeze during the winter, we would have a reprieve. I hate that my child has to take medication every single day to live here. Greg can work from other cities, as can I, and I wonder whether our kids will resent us someday for their childhoods full of Allegra and Flonase. Oh, and please no talk of neti pots or honey or air filters. Don’t you think I tried that before I let someone give me 21 shots in the arm?

2 thoughts on “Sick of this place

  1. Gosh. This is news to me. Maybe because I’ve stepped foot in Texas only twice in my life. But, I did grow up in California where there isn’t a freeze and my husband SWEARS his allergies were terrible.

    I have luckily skirted this issue as a whole, but my family has not. I guess there is something to be thankful for as I see 6 inches of snow outside on my deck. This is the time of year we get a reprieve from lots of things (including sunshine and fresh air, unfortunately)– mosquitoes and bugs in general cease.

  2. I think decisions like that are so hard. I remember hearing about a child who had health/breathing problems that made the humidity nearly unbearable for her, and wondering why in the world her parents didn’t move to the mountains or the desert. But it’s not so easy to relocate–even without jobs tying you in one place. Family, friends, neighbors, community, the cities we live in really shape our lives. The truth is that my husband and I have talked a lot about moving to be closer to family and friends, and yet still the idea of moving itself is almost enough to give me hives. So I understand how complicated a decision like that is.

    I have outgrown my childhood allergies (although I developed food allergies–beef and pork–as an adult, but it’s quite easy, in fact preferable, for me to be vegetarian and avoid the problem all together). Things as ubiquitous as eggs and mold–dang. That’s tricky. You have my sympathy, though I can’t offer any advice.

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